


Cat and Mouse

by owlaholic68



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Sex, Creepy, F/F, Historical, Implied Femslash, Mild Sexual Content, Stalking, Swearing, all my npcs will probably die next session so I'm just going to push them all off the deep end, also she's turned into a bit of a Yandere, but she sure as hell is now, tbh Harriett wasn't into Sonya at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22925035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Love is just a game to Harriett. A game that, like everything else in life, she is determined to win at any cost.





	Cat and Mouse

Harriett seduces nuns.

And not just in a metaphorical sense.

“We’ll get caught!” Sister Isabel protests. Harriett’s newest conquest, and quite a lovely one at that. Would look even more comely desperate and begging for Harriett.

“We won’t get caught if _you be quiet,”_ she hisses. Drops to her knees and pushes the Sister against the wall of this secluded corner of the Abbey. “Shut the fuck up and don’t make a single noise. Unless you _want_ the Abbess to find you with my head up your skirt? What a wonderful way to squander all the opportunity I’ve given you…”

Sister Isabel squeaks and covers her own mouth with her hand. She nods and keeps blessedly silent the whole time, though tears run down her cheeks. Whispering silent prayers behind her fingers.

That draws a laugh later. Praying? What entity would dare look favorably upon a nun that broke order to lie with a demon?

“She’ll _really_ need someone to pray to by the time I get done with her,” Harriett mutters to herself alone in her chambers. She chuckles again. That presumes that there’ll be anything left of dear sweet Sister Isabel by the time she’s fully ensnared in Harriett’s web.

Like a spider closing in on its prey…

* * *

Harriett is a card shark.

A shark lying in wait under dangerous water. No warning. Playing with a full deck of cards and cheating every single time.

“Harriett, ma’am, please…” Therese comes to Harriett’s door in a tearful rage. “You said you could help. I need help. I need to show them that they _can’t_ do that to my father – how _dare_ they!”

“Sit down,” she murmurs. Smiles like a shark preparing to take a huge bite. “Of course I can help, my dear.” She lowers her pale white eyelashes in a coy pout. “For a price, of course.”

“Any price. Name your price.” Therese is sharp. Furious. But cold fury despite the waterworks. “I’ll do anything to make them _pay_ for this, ma’am.”

A contract is made. Signed. Sealed in blood as was traditional in those days but is obsolete nowadays.

Therese goes on a glorious vengeance spree. This gentle quiet shopkeep’s daughter had talent, that much was obvious. What Harriett hadn’t counted on was her sheer power once let loose. And isn’t that what Harriett does best? She finds diamonds in the rough and shines them until they explode into perfect storms.

“Ma’am!” Therese collapses into Harriett’s arms. Mouth already on Harriett’s pale neck, quick merchant’s hands undoing her hairpins and scattering them across the cobblestones. No danger of being caught here; this courtyard contains only corpses and the Guard wasn’t alerted to their violence.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” Harriett notes between heavy kisses. “You know my name.”

Therese blushes. “Yes ma’am. I mean, oh damn, whatever. I – I’d like to continue calling you ma’am.”

“Fine. Down, girl.” Harriett pushes her down. Therese stares up at her with wide eyes.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Please me.”

“Yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

Therese was easy. Eager and desperate for more power, more, more, always more. Over-eager little fish snapped up by a very hungry shark.

* * *

“Really, Jacques?” Harriett slams the parchment onto the parlor table. She hears an ominous crack that does not bode well for the state of their suite furniture. “Really?”

“What, Harriett?” He snaps. “The fuck do you want?” Squints up at her through his shitty backup pair of glasses. He’d broken his regular pair last week. Said it was in a fight but Lucy told her that it was really from falling off a horse.

She points to one item. A list of to-do items for their stay at Court. Various Deals that needed to be secured, some magical goals, and a few key individuals to get on their side. By any means necessary. Hence the list and distribution of jobs.

“What?” Jacques snaps again. “We already talked about this. The Duchess has ties with the military. We need her.”

“Yeah, but you wrote down, and I quote, _fuck the Duchess._ I wasn’t sure if that meant, like, go for a turn in the cabbages or try to kill her. Do you _mind_ making your instructions a little clearer?”

He makes a very rude gesture at her. She returns the favor and storms off.

At least it was a difficult task. Harriett loves challenges.

She stalks the notoriously aloof Duchess for two weeks before getting her chance.

“Madam,” she quietly says, sidling up next to the Duchess during an afternoon promenade. “Forgive my intrusion, but I happened across this token the other day.” She holds out a handkerchief that belonged to the Duchess. Delicate silk work, a real piece of art. It was a shame to steal it. “Someone mentioned that you were missing one of this description.”

“Thank you. Miss Revel, correct?” The Duchess graces her with a rare smile. Takes the handkerchief.

“Yes, that’s right. This is gorgeous. I almost had a mind to keep it for myself.” Harriett winks and half-turns away. Lets a hunk of her white hair fall over her eye. There is charm in mystery. “Not a gift from a lover, I hope.”

The Duchess blushes. Opens and closes her mouth a few times, flustered. She regains her composure and hides her face behind her fan. A clear answering flirtation. “Not from a lover. Not many dare pierce my cold demeanor, I’m afraid.”

“Hm. Pity – I’m sure they’re missing out.” Harriett dips a curtsy. She’s being far too forward – time to duck back and play coy. “Ah, my brother is calling for me. Good day, Madam. Perhaps I will see you around again.”

As expected, the Duchess requests her presence in her personal chambers. Needless to say, Harriett doesn’t leave those chambers in the same clothing she arrived in.

* * *

“Fuck off,” Mrs. Woods snarls. Pushes Harriett away. “After what you did, why – how _dare_ you even presume to speak to us?”

Harriett shrugs. Backs off. Doesn’t want to push too hard. “My apologies, Alexandria.” Risks a wink. “I thought _you_ would perhaps want to see me.”

Mrs. Woods sputters indignantly. Blushing from her bonnet to her boots. “I – I’m a married woman! And I – I am not the type of harlot to stoop to such a thing! With a demon, no less!” She crosses herself and starts whispering furious prayers for mercy and forgiveness.

“Aw, lambkin, do you regret how much you and your family have accomplished?” Harriett fake-pouts and steps closer. Puts a slim hand over Mrs. Woods’ throat. Lowers her voice to a dangerous murmur. “Because I could take it all back, Alexandria. So easily. Put you back to struggling for power instead of fiercely wielding it. Do you know how much your husband has accomplished politically just in the last week? With all his enemies gone, no one dares oppose him.”

“He – he’s a tyrant, people say!”

“All the better. Tyrants can do anything they want.” Harriett presses her lips to her prey’s cheek. “Unless they have equally powerful enemies. Enemies that mysteriously resurface with renewed strength. Strength of a demon to back their vengeance. Would your husband still be able to control the Senate with that kind of opposition? I think not.”

Mrs. Woods swallows hard. Harriett’s fingers flex.

“He’s so busy with his newfound power, he won’t notice a bit of dalliance. Does he even have time for you anymore?” Harriett laughs and enjoys the way this little lamb shivers. “You know, being taken to bed isn’t just for baby-making. It’s supposed to feel good. For both of you. Does he even give a single fuck about how you feel? Because I do. And I could do _anything_ to you, lambkin. Do you like how my hand feels around your neck? Do you want me to do more?”

She squeezes her hand and grins at Alexandria’s gasp. Turns into a whimper when Harriett runs her other hand down her bosom.

“I – I suppose that one time won’t hurt,” she stutters. “He – he’s surely done the same, you know how men are. One time, Harriett, but just one time.”

“Just one time,” she echoes. Inwardly moves in for the metaphorical kill.

 _Just one time_ is her best weapon. Turns into _another won’t hurt_ turns into _if we’ve already done it_ turns into _why not?_

One time is never just one time.

* * *

Love is a game and Harriett fucking hates it.

It’s not a game anymore when it turns serious, is it? When you get attached.

When your stupid little lovey-dovey gets turned into a godforsaken _vampire._

“You need to calm the hell down,” Lucy snaps at her during another of Harriett’s tantrums. “Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?”

“My idiot brother!” Harriett shrieks and stabs a knife into the table. “My brother, that’s what wrong! Fucking moron, sappy good-for-nothing! Might as well have a wet rag for a boss, Luce. We’re better off without him. Or else maybe we’ll catch his nonsense.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Alright, we’re going out. Put on something nice, we’re going to a show. Or let’s go raid a Gentlemen’s Club and get the place to ourselves. Something to distract you from this bullshit.”

“Fine.” Harriett rolls her eyes too. Last time she had a violent rage, Lucy locked her in the basement for a week.

* * *

Harriett does not lie with anybody for decades. The echo of her brother’s newfound happiness (yuck) tastes bitter every time she has the thought. The last thing she wants is to accidentally turn a brush into a turtledove.

* * *

Harriett hums a nursery rhyme under her breath. Kicks her heels against the trunk of this sturdy tree. What luck, to have such a good tree with such a clear view of key windows.

“Too much sugar will rot you, little rabbit,” she murmurs. Watches Sonya make another cup of hot chocolate. Pacing around her cozy apartment. “It will rot your cute little teeth, it will rot your sweet little heart from the inside out. Rot you until all that’s left is anger.”

She chuckles and cocks her head. Sonya appears agitated tonight. Worried about something. “And when that happens, I will pounce like a cat on a mouse stuck in a trap. I will eat you up so fast you won’t have time to scream.”

More patience. The next morning, Sonya is bleary-eyed. Slept badly that night.

“Bad dreams, cupcake? Aw…” Harriett shadows her to work. Wishes she could knock down those silly annoying protections on the bookstore so she could bother her there. But she will content herself with just watching.

Harriett scurries back to Sonya’s apartment before she gets home. Runs right into what feels like a brick wall upon attempting to break in.

She sits back on her heels and giggles, resting her head against Sonya’s front door. “Only delaying the inevitable, but nice try… I’ll let you continue to think that this will stop me. If I _really_ try…” She presses her hand against the door and feels the protections flex and crack. “No, but I’ll let you have this little comfort. You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning let you do, sweeting, and we can’t have that, can we?”

Back to her tree refuge. The setting sun comes in at just the right angle to splay across Sonya’s arms and cheeks. Harriett indulges in her favorite hobby of watching Sonya all night until the sun tries to come up through the heavy clouds the next morning. Another rainy day – what a shame. Sonya doesn’t look good in red – beige is much more her color. Goes with her hair and complements her eyes.

“I wish you would just let me catch you, little mouse…” Harriett muses. Combs leaves out of her hair and wishes Sonya’s hair was still long so she could run her fingers through it. Twist her fingers and yank it. “Is it really so difficult to forgive me? Is it really so painful to be near me? Even just once – just once, Sonya, just once…”

Love is a game.

Harriett is losing badly.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP in advance to Harriett...


End file.
